Ok, I admit it. I totally haven't updated this one in forever. Please please PLEASE forgive me. Everything has been NUTS in my life lately, and about to get nuttier. Lol. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me and drop me a review, even if its not a pleasent one. I'm probably a little rusty on this fic, so I'll try and get it back together again ASAP. And if the grammer is bad on this fic, its because for some reason during the upload, it got all screwed up, so I had to fix it on the go. Hopefully the issue will be resolved. Thanks to any and all who read this!

When the bus rolled to a stop, Ryan stood and stretched himself before grabbing his bags and waiting for everybody else in front to shuffle off. He was impatient because he was stuck in between people and not able to move. When he finally was able to step down from the bus, he followed the herd of people towards the hotel.

When he walked through the doors, he was hit with a massive blast of cold air from the air conditioning. He felt a shudder roll down his spine as he adjusted. Noting where everybody else was going, he headed in that direction; towards the front desk.

"Hi, can I help you?" an already tired receptionist asked in a falsely sweet voice.

"Yeah, my name is Ryan Wolfe, I'm supposed to check in here," he said, feeling like an idiot because he basically knew as much about traveling as a criminal did about DNA.

"Ok, let me pull up your name, see if your room is registered and available," she said and beginning clicking away at the keys of the computer.

Ryan leaned on the wooden counter and looked around him while he was waiting. The herd of experienced business people were milling around near the elevator, waiting, some not so patiently, for it to come down. Just as the elevator came down and the doors open, two men were struggling and fighting to get in before they had to wait on the next one. When Ryan saw a fist fly, he hurriedly excused himself from the receptionist, and pulled back his jacket as he jogged towards the two men, not even bothering with the elevator anymore. He flashed his badge and called out angrily; "Hey, hey, hey! Break it up!"

He shoved himself in between the two men and kept them at an arm's length distance.

"Now, gentlemen take it outside!" Ryan growled as he slowly let them go.

"Wait, you're not going to tell us to quit?" the one on his left asked. "What kind of cop are you?"

Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but a fist flew, and hit him square in the jaw. He almost fell back but nevertheless, released both men and clutched what felt like his broken jaw.

"Damn, Jeeze, I was only trying to help!" Ryan snarled after he took his hands away.

"You're lucky I didn't knock your teeth out. Now beat it!"

"Hey! I'm a freaking cop, from Miami or not, you're lucky I don't file assault charges on your ass!" Ryan called out angrily as he walked away. Shame burned his neck as he felt his flush rising. Not the first time he'd backed down from a fight. His uncle would have been ashamed of him, and he was disappointed in himself.

He walked back to the receptionist who was still clicking away at the keys. Ryan cocked his head at her and gave a look that said 'don't f with me right now; I just had my jaw knocked into next Thursday.'

She seemed to register the look. She probably did get a lot of them from angry or annoyed business travelers.

"Ok, Mr. Wolfe, we've got your information. Room 518 and here's your key card," she said, passing it to him.

"Thanks," he growled before snatching up the card and stalking away.

The elevator had just finished taking people up, so Ryan was standing there waiting for his with his bags. All of a sudden, he felt a soft vibration in his pocket.

He reached inside the pocket of his pants and pulled out his cell phone. He didn't even check the caller ID, he just answered.

"Wolfe here," he muttered, feeling the pain from his jaw spread to his cheek bone.

"Hey, Ryan. Wait a minute, what's up?"

Ryan sighed. "Oh nothing, Calleigh. I just got my face smashed in by a pissed of business traveler. How's your morning?"

"Jeeze, what did you do to make the locals mad at you already?" she asked, laughing, trying to work through his anger.

"Broke up a fight. Badged him, but he decided to be a smart ass and hit me anyways."

"You're not filing charges are you?" Calleigh asked, a slight tone of nervousness in her voice.

"No, I'm not. It's not worth it." He could hear an audible sigh of relief.

"Has that body popped up yet?" Ryan asked, wondering if Eric was in as much discomfort as he was.

"Nope, not yet, but when it does, Alexx shall supervise him. Don't worry, Ryan." Calleigh laughed.

"Ok, listen, I gotta get my room organized and everything, I'll call you later," he told her.

They hung up and the elevator picked Ryan up. It took him up to the fifth floor and he then walked quickly to his room, wondering if the guy who'd punched him earlier was still lurking around.

As he let himself in, he shivered. The air conditioner was cranked down to almost sixty. He set his bags down near one of the beds and flicked the air off. Flopping down one of the beds, Ryan wondered if it was worth his energy to unpack or just to live out of his suitcase for the what, two days, he'd be here.

But his OCD urges won out. He unzipped his bag and began to lay everything out and then rearrange it in the drawers. He had time, he didn't have to be at the conference building till eight.

After the second rendition of it being rearranged, Ryan was satisfied. He then cleaned his gun and polished up his badge. An old, almost sentimental habit of his, especially since he'd become a CSI..

Ryan sighed as he thought of his OCD. He'd been teased unmercifully in school because of it. Instead of going outside to play with the other kids at recess, he'd spend his time cleaning the classroom. It wasn't that he wanted to, he couldn't help himself. His uncle couldn't afford the medication it would have taken to rein his OCD in at that age. He could still hear his uncle's voice inside his head after he came home crying for at least the tenth time when he was a kid.

"Stop your bawling, Ryan. So what you're not like them? Who's to say you should be? Personally I'm glad I've got you for a nephew, and not any of them for a son or daughter."

Ryan gave a small smile at the memory. As he'd gotten older, it had been easier to control his OCD, and he'd been able to get it under wraps for the most part. But there were times, when he was upset, stressed, depressed, or annoyed, he'd give it a free reign. The exhaustion of letting it control him was a good distraction from whatever was bothering him.

So, as he re-holstered his gun and re-clipped his badge, he felt a good deal better than he had when he'd come up to his room. Deciding he might as well get something to eat and his rental car sorted out, he headed out of his room, only after triple checking he'd taken everything he needed with him.

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An only somewhat stale bagel and watered down coffee made up Ryan's breakfast. He was sitting down at a table in the hotel's dining area when he saw the jerk that'd slammed him in the face early this morning. Ryan gave a satisfied grin when he saw the red bruising on the guy's knuckles.

But when their eyes locked, Ryan could still feel the malice in them. He let a hand rest on his gun, even as he turned his gaze away. The tension rose a few degrees even more and Ryan decided the room was only big enough for one of them.

Since he had somewhere to be anyways, and not wanting a black eye, he got up and left. He could hear a satisfied chuckle and he almost turned around again. But he wrenched a grip on himself at the last minute and kept walking.

The rental car place was less than a half block from the hotel, so Ryan headed up the street. Unlike in Miami, the streets weren't filled with people mimicking seagulls looking for a treat. There were a few people, mostly hurrying in the streets, heads down or straight ahead. Ryan shrugged and kept going.

When he stepped into the cool air condition, he saw someone at the counter he recognized, but couldn't place where. There were two guitar cases by her feet, for she was clearly a female with a nice curvy shape, but wearing jeans that rode on her waist, not on her hips, like almost all Miami girls. And she wore a plain black T-shirt, at least from the back. Ryan knew that if girls in Miami wore T-shirts, they had them twisted up so that at least some of their midriff showed. Not this girl. Was she a local from Arizona? He walked up behind her, waiting patiently, and then he saw the third bag by her feet. A royal blue and silver back pack and a roll a round suitcase with the initials E.P.

"Hey, stranger," he said quietly from behind her.

She spun around and flashed a smile. "Well, well, look who's here!" Erin laughed, tossing her fluffy bangs away from her eyes.

"I thought your plane wasn't until seven," Ryan quipped as the teller continued to click away at the keys of the computer.

"Oh, that, yeah, they put me on standby and a flight left fifteen minutes after yours. I was glad when I finally got here, I was worried about my babies," she gently nudged both guitar cases with her feet.

Ryan smiled with her but then the teller got her attention. Erin passed over a credit card, and after about thirty seconds, the card was passed back with a set of keys. "All set, Miss," was the short dismissal.

"Great, thanks a lot." Erin returned, and then reached down to try and collect her bags.

"Here, let me help you," and before Erin could protest, he scooped up her hard bound case and her back pack which he slung over his shoulder. She slipped her soft bound guitar case onto her back and grabbed her roll around.

"Thank you," she said as they headed out into the back parking lot where all the cars were.

"So, where are you going with all this stuff?" he asked as Erin browsed through the lots, looking for her car.

"Oh, I'm sort of a traveling musician.. More of a traveler than musician, but I'm never unprepared if there's a gig in the town I'm at."

"So, you're a performer?" he summarized.

"Yeah, I guess. But I prefer not to have a steady label. Cuts down on the ability of what I can do," she said with a shrug. She flipped her fluffy bangs away from her doe eyes and glanced around the parking lot.

"What car are you looking for?" he asked, feeling the weight of the guitar case in his hand begin to pull at his shoulder.

"Open air Jeep," she said. She saw it with a smile and headed towards it at the other end of the parking lot. Ryan wondered in the back of his mind how two guitar cases, one of them quite heavy, and her bags were going to fit.

As he followed her to the Jeep and she unlocked the door, she took the case from his hand. Very carefully, she laid it on the floor between the back seat and the front seat. She then shrugged her soft bound guitar off her back and laid it string side up on back seat.

"You must do this a lot," he said as she took her backpack from him and used it to further cushion the hard bound acoustic guitar.

As she hoisted her roll around into the back seat beside her electric she flicked her bangs again and shrugged. "All the time. I had to trade in my bike for cars though, if I wanted to take my music with me."

"So, how do you make money? Playing at shows?" he asked.

"Mostly." she answered. "My family has some money too."

"Must be nice," he answered with a slight heavy tone.

"Oh trust me, my family and I don't agree on my choices." she explained. She shrugged again and smiled.

"So, where you headed?" he questioned as she climbed into the driver's seat.

"Who knows? Who cares?" she said with a laugh. She fired up the engine and pulled a stylish pair of sunglasses out and slid them on over her face. "Thanks for the help Ryan. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe," he said with a cock of his head. He stepped back from the Jeep and watched as she pulled out of the parking lot. For some reason, a warm, happy feeling was bubbling up inside his chest as he watched her go.

Now there's someone who knows what she wants in life. he thought to himself as he headed back to the building.

He stepped back up to the counter and began the process of picking up his car. After a small hassle of making sure he was who he said he was, he was led out to the parking lot to a small Ford Focus. The lady handed him the keys and beat a hasty retreat, as if longing to be away from him. Ryan shrugged and let himself into the car.

Almost at once when he fired up the engine, he could feel something wasn't quite right with the car. The way the engine hummed louder and seemed to shiver as he put it in reverse to back out. He rolled his eyes and prayed that the car wouldn't die on him while he was here.

Needless to say, he had to drive quite a while before he found the building he was looking for. The city was laid out in a confusing manner with twists and turns and roundabouts that made him rather agitated by the time be pulled into the parking lot. Killing the motor for the Focus, he got out and headed into the building.

The air conditioning was very welcoming as the sun had already started to grow warm on his back while walking across the parking lot. This was clearly an office building that was being used for this conference, and he saw many of his own people, CSIs, roaming around the lobby, waiting for lectures to start, or checking their notes for their presentations. He half wished Calleigh was here with him, she was excellent about knowing where to go and what to do in these kinds of things.

Deciding at least on that he needed to find out what lecture he should go to first, and what time it started, he walked up to the front desk. On it someone had laid schedules out. He was pleased at the neat organization and he couldn't help but notice his OCD felt approval. All the stacks of papers were the same height, and not one was out of place. Careful not to disturb the neatness, he picked up one of the papers and glanced over it quickly.

There was a lecture on ballistics starting at 8:15 and a lecture on Trace evidence at 8:30. Trace was his specialty, but he'd always wanted another perspective on it. There was another lecture at 2:00 on victimology and one at 3:00 on criminal profiling. He knew immediately he wanted to do both of those. The rest he did not find particularly interesting. He decided he might check out the fingerprinting expert at 1:00 if he couldn't find another way to occupy his time.

As he started to look for the conference room that the Trace lecture would be given in, he wished he would have brought a pen and paper with him. Notes were always good, and usually needed in this kind of work. The idea that he hadn't remembered that irritated him slightly. As he walked into the room, fifteen minutes early, he saw with relief there was a large stack of notebooks and pens laid out on a table pressed against the back wall. He quickly picked one up and took a pen before going to find a seat on the edge of the isle up near the front.

His mind began to wander as he waited for the lecture to start. His thoughts seemed to settle on Erin for some reason, the way she seemed to have this air of optimism around her. It was puzzling to him for some reason. He had never been an optimist, and he had never really understood people who were. Yet they had always intrigued him. He remember his first serious girlfriend in high school had been an optimist. Yet optimism did not mix with OCD, sadly.

He watched as more people filed into the room, taking seats, pulling out notebooks and writing utensils and stowing away PDA's and cell phones. It reminded him to put his phone on silent. Making a mental note to check it when the lecture ended, he cut the ringer and vibrator off before putting it back in his pocket. Once most people had finished taking seats, or at least what looked like anybody who was going to stick around for the lecture had fallen silent, Ryan watched as a man in his later forties came to stand behind the podium.

"Thank you all for attending. The lecture I want to give is not just about Trace evidence, or different methods of detecting it, or collecting and analyzing it, but how Trace can be used in previously unknown ways."

Ryan's brain became totally focus on the lecturer, as his mind usually was when he was about to be given new information. He flipped open his notebook, and in neat, quick writing began hurrying across the page with his pen taking notes.

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When the lecture let out at 9:15 Ryan felt considerably more informed than he had earlier. It was a good feeling, the kind he enjoyed. The lecturer had not only talked about how to collect even the smallest amounts of Trace, but how it could be manipulated. Such as, when they had a piece of evidence to place a suspect at a scene, but not the committer of the crime, how that piece of Trace could be used with logic to lead to another piece of evidence to pin the killer for the crime. A piece of evidence they may not even suspect to be there if they didn't think about it correctly. Call him a nerd, but logic was endlessly fascinating to Ryan.

As he milled about the lobby, wondering what he should do with himself until the afternoon lectures he wanted to listen to, he remembered to check his phone. As he pulled it out of his pocket, he saw he had a missed call from Calleigh.

Hitting the redial button swiftly he put the phone to his ear and waited through four rings until she picked up.

"Hello?" her sweet southern voice was a welcome to Ryan. Familiar to, but not just because he knew her, for some other reason as well.

"Hey, Calleigh, you called?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, I did, I was wondering if you'd had any lectures yet."

"I just got done with a Trace lecture, there's two more a victimology and a criminal profiling that I'm doing in the afternoon."

"Well, that sounds interesting. How's Arizona?"

"Warm but not that bad, kinda like Miami, but without the palm trees. Just as confusing too."

Her sweet laughter filled his ear and he joined in briefly. When she became serious again she asked "So, what do you plan on doing with yourself till this afternoon?"

"I have no idea." he said.

"Well, I' d sight see. I'm sure you can find something to keep you occupied. I gotta go, Horatio's trying to get me on the other line. Bye."

She hung up and he flipped his phone shut. Sight seeing did sound good. Maybe he'd learn about the city and find a good place for lunch before heading back for his lectures.

As he left the building and headed for the parking lot, he was grateful for his short sleeves. But he realized that it actually wasn't that hot out. Glancing around at the bustle of the downtown area he was in, he smiled. Putting his keys back in his pocket, he decided he'd walk and let his feet see where they wanted to take him.